Lady In Red
by MacMhuirich
Summary: Too much alcohol and Loki don't go well together. Drunk Loki slips into his female form and displays an amorous interest in an equally tipsy Tony Stark. Female Loki/Tony Stark No slash!


**A/N: _I know I should get some updates up on my unfinished, multi chapter stories, but this idea just begged to be written down._**

_**For those who have been reading my stuff; know that I haven't forgotten. Real life has been getting in the way with an accident which had impaired my right hand rather badly (no writing :/), and other things...work...etc.**_

_**So, please enjoy and let me know your thoughts unless you believe my endeavors entirely useless. ;)**_

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**Lady in Red**

"Another!" Tony Stark bellowed, plonking down his empty glass on the table.

Loki frowned at the other man's imitation of the God of Thunder. One vociferous character was more than enough, thank you very much.

After spending a long day cooped up in the lab, the billionaire had persuaded the Trickster for a drink at Tony's favorite bar.

From one glass, it went to two and then a couple more like it was nothing.

A new glass, filled to the brim with Scotch, was unceremoniously planted in front of the Iron Man who, with a mischievous glint in his eyes directed at the God of...Mischief, tossed the content back and planted the empty glass back on the table with more force than was necessary.

"Your turn, Reindeer Games. Not giving up, are you?"

Loki, unperturbed, followed suit by ordering his next and downing it without a second's thought.

Did this…not so puny…mortal really believe he could best a god? An Aesir? Strike that: Jötunn! He frowned momentarily at the idea of a Frost Giant partaking alcohol. From what knowledge he had, they didn't take alcoholic beverages too well.

The truth was he himself had never been one to overindulge in mead, beer or wine. Not after that one, memorable if shameful time when he'd been so drunk there's was no stopping his wrangling: insult upon insult rolled effortlessly from his tongue. Silver Tongue had turned acid, all of a sudden.

And then he had to run for dear life when things at Aegir's Hall had gone from bad to worse for him. He had no recollection what happened after that, but, what felt like ages later, he found himself sprawled on a bed in the private wing of the healing chambers reserved to the royal family. He'd woken up with a killer headache after rather unpleasant and vivid dreams of him turning into a salmon to escape the other, infuriated Aesir, Vanir and Elves. The nightmare got even worse when he lay tethered to some hard rocks and writhing in pain when a giant snake dripped its venom on his bare skin.

He wasn't even sure if the unfortunate events at Aegir's Hall had truly happened. Actually, he'd rather hoped these were also figments of his imagination. _Fever_ induced imagination, for he couldn't believe he would've displayed such unacceptable behavior had he been in his right mind. On the other hand, what was wrong with a little exchange of insults?

As it turned out, his atrocious behavior the other night had indeed been real. Oh Thor's Goats! How he'd wanted to spirit himself away from the shame he felt when he was told about what had happened. And, of course, who else would it be but the Allfather to confront him with it?

And since he was utterly depleted of energy, he couldn't but lie there, weak as a kitten, and listen to Odin's lecture and reprimands and threats if such shameful and irresponsible behavior were to happen again in the future.

Frigga had also come in to visit him, when healing from the extremely bad hangover, to stand beside his bed and looking down on him with nothing of her renowned calm and serenity. Au contraire. She'd leaned on her one hand beside him on the bed while wagging an angry finger in front of his nose as she hissed at him to wash his foul mouth before daring to show himself to the others again! One long glare and then she was her composed self again.

It was Thor who explained with much gusto and animation, as well as in great detail all that had transpired. In fact, Loki morosely thought Thor was having too much fun retelling.

He learned from his brother how he'd manage to insult and rile all who were present in the Hall – he'd probably be frowned upon for a long time after this drunken stint. Especially Freya! From what Thor told him, Loki's engaging Freya had been quite entertaining. Until it ran out of hand the longer Loki kept up the verbal contest. Loki couldn't understand why they would all feel so ridiculously offended by…a mere game!

He snorted at that: the simply couldn't accept he was better at these ritual exchanges. They were so much fun.

Thor went on telling how they'd found him, out cold in the Gaupul river and had to revive him. By the time they had him in the healing chambers, he'd thrown such a violent fit they had to stun, cuff and tether him to the bed lest he'd harm himself and others. At some point, Thor muttered, everyone had been locked out of the private wing by Eir, the head of the healers, except Odin and Frigga.

Oh, the sheer shame he felt as he was forced to listen to Thor's story.

The one and only solace Loki had, was that he'd managed to create mayhem to last for centuries and had had his occasion to say one or two things about the untouchables! Yes, truths hurt, but he'd wished he'd remembered if he'd relished unleashing his damning truths. Oh, he was sure he must've enjoyed the flyting. Only too bad he didn't recall any of it or, more importantly, their reactions. He would've loved to see their faces.

No, the consumption of alcohol had such an adverse effect on him he'd avoided it when possible.

Oh but he had a taste for fine wine, for sure, but the drinking fests in the Great Hall had no appeal to him and were easily ignored. His dear…not-really-and-not-really-that-dear-brother, the God of Thunder, on the other hand, would invariably chug tankards galore of mead. No inhibition.

His eyes twinkled. _Whereas here…_ As long as he didn't let it go too far. As long as he could keep himself under control. He wasn't on Asgard, here, so what were the chances he would become as inebriated as he was on that…indelible night from the distant past.

Come to think of it! Since he'd learned about his true lineage, it all made so much more sense, didn't it?

He watched the billionaire fill up his glass with the ambler liquid, toss it back, smack his lips and smirk at him.

Loki snatched the bottle and poured himself another glass. His eyes never leaving his opponent's, he downed the shot of whisky, feeling the temporary comfort of the heat slide down.

The two men went on in this vein for some time until, eventually, there remained only one standing. Sitting. Slumping, more like.

The audience they'd gathered as the contest progressed, roared the name of the victor and one of the burly guys standing closest to Loki audaciously lifted the Trickster God's left hand.

Nobody took notice his countenance had obtained a slightly…bluish glow, and the ones who might, probably thought it was a trick of the light or the result of their own – slightly – inebriated condition. And…didn't the emerald eyes seem to have taken on a reddish hue instead?

Loki slowly and heavily raised his other hand and nodded his thanks to the gathered pub crowd. He was too far gone to smile or smirk, whichever he usually reserved for situations in which he came out victorious.

With exaggerated care, Loki pushed himself up from his chair and rounded the table towards the quite rusty Iron Man whose upper body lay half draped over the table, one arm hanging limply by his side and his other still holding a full glass.

Loki leaned over to check on the Iron Man but he was out for the count, face slack, eyes glazed and unseeing and his snores equaling that of a bilgesnipe bull during the rutting season which made the god chortle drunkenly.

Straightening again, he weaved…swayed…his way to the restroom to relieve.

After that, nobody had seen him come out again.

Uhm…

"Hey lady! This is the men's room!"

An imposingly tall lady in a blood red and rather sexy form-fitting dress airily brushed the man who'd spoken to her aside.

She was a gorgeous creature and so totally out of place but oozing an extraordinary blend of command and seduction that the whole pub fell silent, the raucous men's animal brains making them stand aside to make way for her sleek form to pass.

She walked with such grace and confidence towards the table where Tony Stark now sat up, just as much in awe as the rest of those present. His eyes widened and his blood rushed to his face with excitement when she stopped right beside him.

He looked around, not sure what to do and quite unbelieving he was the one she was looking for. She had attracted quite some attention, he observed.

The lady in red bent over to reach a perfectly manicured and lacquered finger under his chin and slowly lifted his head.

Her firm breasts being at his eye level, he couldn't but stare at them but that was quickly remedied when she delivered a stinging little slap on his flustered cheek.

Well, so much for admiring this living and breathing piece of classical art!

"Let's go." Her voice was lilting and Tony somehow recognized the slightly foreign accent but his brain being as woozy as it was now, couldn't really put it where he'd heard it before.

She hooked an arm into his and effortlessly pulled him to his feet. To the audience, it seemed like he had got up on his own accord.

He stared wildly about him, looking for the familiar face of the Trickster.

"But…but…Loki!"

"Don't worry," she replied sensually, "it's all right. Let's spend the rest of this delightful night at your place, Tony. Aren't you feeling a little horny? I know I am…"

Tony had to admit this striking lady did do something with him and he was indeed feeling horny like a toad so he wouldn't mind getting laid by her.

His eyes kept wandering to the lady's ample cleavage, but this time she didn't slap him.

No, he wouldn't mind at all.

And there was nothing else Tony Stark could do but let his feet carry him away from the pub alongside the most beautiful creature on earth, all thought of Loki forgotten. And at this moment, he wouldn't even recall his most treasured girlfriend, soul mate, light of his life, Pepper.

-o0o-

At Tony's apartment – how he ever got there this fast, was a total mystery to him – the lights dimmed to a soft pastel and romantic music he didn't recognize, played softly in the background.

"The system has been breached. Preparing to run diagnostics to…" Stark's voice assistant Jarvis started saying but the AI was cut off by a mere wave of the lady's elegant hand.

She moved with grace towards the billionaire, flaunting her perfect body. Taunting him.

The genius had decided she was an absolute goddess. She was simply stunning and he couldn't believe he had her all to himself, tonight.

Tony coughed and cleared his throat nervously. "Now, look here...gorgeous…but… We haven't been properly introduced!"

"Why! You can call me Scarlet," the lady purred in his ear as she effortlessly slipped his jacket from his shoulders while kicking off one of her pumps.

Her voice! The velvety quality of it!

He'd heard something similar before, though it hadn't been a female voice. It still sounded familiar.

And then, he pushed her off and held her at arm length, staring confusedly into her strikingly green eyes.

Green eyes… _Green_ eyes!

Before he had processed this information, she sprouted a set of familiar horns. Not unlike Loki's, he thought. These, though, were translucent. These were like some holographic projection. No. No mere projection any longer, for they solidified right in front of his very eyes! Loki's golden horns!

No. This couldn't be. His mind was playing tricks on him.

"Loki? What the…" Tony slurred.

Instantly, the shiny horns morphed away; vanished, like they'd never been there at all.

She smiled a dazzling smile, showing perfect teeth framed by full, sensual lips glossy with rouge.

Tony, wide awake from shock, stumbled and landed on his backside, still staring up at this…female and – ah'um – rather sexy version of the Asgard prince.

"Know what? I have a better name for you: how 'bout Bambi?"

"Whatever makes you feel comfortable, pet," she laughed, letting the dress drop along her slender legs – the longest Tony had ever seen - to pool in a silky heap around her feet, attracting Tony's near bulging eyes to her comely legs.

His gaze travelled over her now naked, alabaster body and he swallowed, feeling his own respond to this beauty.

What a sight for sore eyes!

Scarlet…_Bambi_'s fingers found his hand and she walked him to the bed.

Uh-oh… This was going to be quite an unforgettable night.

-o0o-

The sun rays filtered the room, caressing the two bodies on the bed until the golden light caught their relaxed faces, carefully pulling them from sleep back to wakefulness.

A pair of emerald eyes slowly blinked open and closed again as Loki rolled lazily on his back, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

He stretched his limbs, feeling rested and very relaxed.

His hand came in contact with something…warm and soft.

And it moved!

His eyes opened wide and he uttered a little yelp in alarm catching sight of the owner of Stark Industries sprawled beside him and stark naked. It was enough to make him bolt upright in bed and swivel from it onto his bare feet.

Only then did he take stock of his own body. Breathless, he ran his trembling hands across his soft belly, let them hover over his br... He stopped. Couldn't go on. His hands went up to his head.

Confusion.

What had happened?

A voice, still slurred from sleep and…a hangover…made him look over to the bed's other occupant.

"Good m…"

Loki didn't wait for Tony to complete the sentence. Quickly covering the intimate parts of his female body with his slender and perfectly manicured hands, he made a grab for his clothes and clutching them to his chest, dashed from the bedroom with the speed of light which hurt Tony's eyes so much he felt like someone was trying hard to scoop them from their sockets with a…

With a spoon…?

Where did that crazy idea come from?

"Now, who's that girl?" Tony pondered, feeling his head slightly disintegrate with the hangover. Thinking wasn't really helping. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Mere seconds later, or so the thought, he saw a bright flash from under the bathroom door.

There was not a sound coming from there.

She was gone.

He was alone.

Dang it! Now, he would never get the chance to know…

_**FIN**_

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**Note: **_**Flyting** _or _**fliting** _is a contest consisting of the exchange of insults, often conducted in verse, between two parties.

For those who haven't read it yet, I recommend the _**Lokasenna **("Loki's Quarrel"), which is one of the poems of the __Poetic Edda_. 

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Please review. :)


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